Pictures Of You, One Fine Afternoon
by TheConjuringMind
Summary: "Let me see!" She said enthusiastically, snatching the blueprint book from his hand, and quickly leafing through the pages before he could protest. Enoch's jaw dropped in horror, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. "No! Don't look at that!" Enolive. Enoch/Olive. Enoch sketches a few pictures of Olive one afternoon, and is mortified when she discovers them. Movie-verse.


**Disclaimer: I don't Own Miss Peregrine's Home For Peculiar Children.**

* * *

The sun was bright.

Leaves were blowing, insects were chirping.

The majority of the peculiar children were outside playing tag, or ball. Or floating about in the air, while others held onto them with long ropes. Either way, all peculiars seemed be enjoying themselves in one way or another. Each participating in an activity that proved to be entertaining, and worthwhile.

Well, all but one _particular_ peculiar, that is.

Enoch, one of the eldest peculiars (though outside and partaking in the fresh air like the others), sat alone on a large rock, located far from the group of children in the back yard.

Partly because he was feeling rather moody, and wanted to be alone, and partly because he felt uncharacteristically uncomfortable, and awkward.

He hadn't intended going outside in the first place, he recalled, but Miss Peregrine had told him it would be best if he got his rays for the day, for his complexion was looking rather pale as of late, and she dreaded what would become of him if he stayed inside any longer.

He had _wanted_ to stay inside though, and work on another reanimating project. He had the entire procedure planned out in his head. What limbs and parts to use, which head and heart.

It was all there, waiting to be acted on.

He just had to get them on pen and paper, and work out the details.

He would've been working on his pet project now, if Olive hadn't been absent in the house.

He never _needed_ an assistant, he knew, because in all honesty he could accomplish whatever he wanted to by himself. But it was always nice to have someone else around that, if not helpful, was at least appreciative of his hobbies.

So he'd given the house a quick, half-hearted search for her.

He checked her room first.

Knocking on the door of course, before entering, and then lingering unnecessarily around her night stand when his eye caught hold of a small journal.

As tempted as he was, he couldn't find it in himself to snoop around it, for he knew he'd never forgive her if she'd done the same to him.

He checked the kitchen and the living room next.

The twins were playing about in the living room for a while, but soon headed outside with the others to enjoy the lovely day.

Miss Peregrine was in the kitchen, sipping on some tea whilst reading a letter.

Enoch tried avoiding her at first, because he was certain she was going to initiate a conversation (which she most certainly did), but he soon found himself _wanting_ her to talk to him. _Wanting_ her to tell him what to do.

Because without his assistant, Olive, all his projects were for not.

He didn't tell this to Miss Peregrine (for fear of her thinking him a softie), but she seemed to know exactly who he was looking for just by the helpless expression on his face.

After she'd told him to go outside she added; "She's outside too, if you're wondering."

Enoch gulped when she'd said that.

Did she know of his... _liking_ , let's say, towards Olive?

And if _she_ knew, did the others know?

Bother! He _was_ going soft, wasn't he?

As much as he wanted to throw a fit, he thought better of it. And instead, he said;

"Who's outside?"

She smiled at him just as she brought her teacup back down again.

She knew that he knew well enough of whom she was referring, but decided it best to let this one slide.

She could tell by the scarlet blush that was in his cheeks, that he was embarrassed about the whole ordeal.

So she sighed quietly to herself before responding.

"All the other children," She told him briskly, returning her attention back to her tea and the letter that she'd had sprawled out on the counter top.

"Right," Enoch said, turning on his heel, and making way for the back door.

"And _Olive_ ," She added cheekily, chuckling silently to herself as he indignantly exited the house.

In present time, Enoch pretended to be occupied in his blueprint journal. Sketching down a wavy line here, or adding in gray color there. All the while secretly watching the other peculiars play tag, and sneaking a few glances at Olive while she sprinted past the other children, and laughed at nothing in particular.

He'd sketched a few pictures of Olive in his blueprint journal, but he couldn't call them anything more than 'abstract'. Because all drawings had terrible proportions, and awkward shading. And none could even be _considered_ to be viewed by another human being (partly because they were a private matter, and partly because they were so abominably awful).

Still, out of the lot that he drew, there was one picture that seemed to properly capture her 'fieriness' and bright smile.

The neck he drew was a little small, and fragile-looking, but the hair, he decided, looked rather fine for a third try.

Finally satisfied with his artistic skills (or lack thereof), he shut his blueprint book tightly with a loud 'clap', and readied himself to head back inside.

He got up from his seat on the large rock just as the other peculiar's game of tag had finally ended.

He gave one last longing glance over at Olive, and mentally scolded himself for doing so.

What was he, a _sap?_

He shook his head and shuffled off.

"Enoch!" The young, fiery-haired girl called after him.

"Do you want to join us in our game? We could use another player."

Enoch stopped himself abruptly, and looked down at her from over his shoulder.

"No, thank you. I've got other things I'm doing at the moment," He brushed her off.

"But if _you_ play the teams will be even!" She cried. "Come on, join us!"

"Why are you asking me to play _now?"_ He asked, raising a brow. "I've never played _before,_ and no one's ever asked me to play either,"

"Well, you're usually busy working on your peculiararity," She explained. "But since you're outside now, and you've nothing much to do...well, I just figured it might be a spot of fun for you, that's all." She shrugged.

"A spot of fun?" He echoed, widening his eyes. "By now I'd think you'd know that the thought of bustling about, running to and fro while some _clumsy_ oaf tries to catch me, doesn't really have any appeal to me whatsoever." He said curtly.

"Gee, Enoch," She said, frowning. "You could've just said 'no'. You didn't have to go slandering the game just because _you_ aren't fond of it." She finished, crossing her arms.

Great, now he'd done it.

Enoch groaned, long and loud.

"Fine," He said tersely. "I'm sorry I slandered your _silly game,_ but I've got better things to do; blueprints I'm working on for the next re-animation project and what-not," He said, making his way towards the house again.

"Blueprints?" She asked excitedly, sprinting up next to him, her whole demeanor changing in an instant at the mentioning of another possible project both she and him could work on.

"Why didn't you say anything? I've been playing out here for _hours_ waiting for you tell me if you had any new ideas yet!"

He raised his brows in a surprised manner, and tilted his head at her.

That _whole time_ he'd looked for her in the house, she was waiting for _him_ to bring news to her outside?

Why isn't _that_ ironic?

"Oh, really?" He asked, clearing his throat as they reached the back door.

"Well, I haven't much written down..." He fibbed. "I only just started when I came outside - "

"Let me see!" She said enthusiastically, snatching the blueprint book from his hand, and quickly leafing through the pages before he could protest.

Enoch's jaw dropped in horror, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers.

He could only imagine how disturbed she would be if she managed to find the one page of grotesque sketch-attempts he had of her, and knew immediately that he had to do everything in his power to prevent her from seeing them.

"No! Don't look at them!" He cried desperately, grabbing hold of the book and attempting to pull it away from her.

Her grip on the book was strong though, and she was a lot tougher than she looked. So she too held onto the journal, and pulled it in the opposite direction.

"Why are you making such a fuss over this!" She complained. "You always let me see your blueprints before we work on the project!"

"They're not," He tugged harder. "Finished!" She tugged back.

" _Let me see!_ " She demanded, removing one of her gloves, and giving him a quick burn to get him to release it.

As expected, Enoch released the book at once, and gasped at his burnt hand.

Though his hand did feel rather charred, he couldn't blame her for being curious. He _was_ acting pretty strange about the whole thing.

Now he just hoped that she wouldn't feel unsettled about being around him after his actions, _and_ her viewing the pictures.

Olive hastily slipped her glove back on, and flitted through the pages.

She stopped at nearly the back of the book, and Enoch had foolishly hoped that perhaps she'd think there was nothing written, and just close the book altogether. But of course she knew better than _that_ , and found the badly hidden pictures soon enough.

Thankfully for him, her eyes flickered to the one acceptable drawing that he did of her smiling, and her hair dancing around her face like flames.

Her eyes widened a bit as she curiously tilted her head, and that's when Enoch could bear it no longer.

What was he _thinking_ drawing a picture of her in his blueprint book? How stupid of him!

Why did he attempt drawing her at all?

He tore his eyes away from her, and blew carefully on his wounded hand.

What was she to think of him now? He was a complete troll!

"Enoch..." She started slowly, looking up at him from the book with wistful eyes.

"What?" He snapped, wincing as his hand started to burn. "I know what you think of me now, so there's really no reason to - "

"Is your hand alright?" She asked abruptly.

Enoch blinked.

"My - ?"

She briskly closed the book, and held it to her side. She took his hurt hand in one of hers, and brought it close to her face.

She examined it for a second, gently turning it over to see if she'd burnt both sides, and then sighing to herself when she discovered she hadn't.

Their eyes met for a moment, his troublesome ones with her apologetic ones. But she seemed to be happy, if not, cheerful for some reason. Almost like she could burst out laughing at any second.

"It looks rather red," She remarked. "I'm truly sorry I hurt you..." She trailed off, as he pulled his hand from hers uncomfortably.

"I'm fine," He said curtly. "I'll take care of it." He pulled his shirt's sleeve down to cover it.

"Now if you don't mind, I'd like my book back." He held out his good hand to receive it.

She silently handed it back to him, eyes looking sheepish.

He turned on his heel.

"Enoch," She called softly to him.

He sighed, but relented and turned around anyway.

"What?"

"They're lovely," She said, a blush creeping its way onto her cheeks. "Your drawings of me, I mean."

His brows knit together.

"No one was meant to see them," He told her. "It's stupid, really. Rather embarrassing. Just forget you even - "

She kissed him then.

Rather abruptly, and on the cheek.

Her lips were like fire, but it didn't burn him like his hand.

No, this was a _different_ kind of fire.

Lightening, even.

Sparks.

Enoch blinked away his thoughts, and cleared his throat.

He looked aimlessly about them to see if anyone had caught sight of their little exchange, and was pleased to find that every other peculiar was still very much engaged in their outdoor activities.

He wasn't sure yet, what to think of it, but he supposed he could come to a conclusion after he had gone inside, and tended to his wounded hand.

"So was there really a new project to work on, or was that just your cover?" She asked, effectively bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Oh," He started clumsily. "Yes, there was. I just didn't get..." She came to his side and took his hand in her own. "To write any of it down..." He finished lamely.

She smiled at him.

"Well, come on!" She beamed. "Let's get inside and bandage up this hand of yours so we can get a start on our new project!"

And with that, they headed on in the house.

Enoch didn't know how to react to this kind of contact or treatment, so he kept silent until they entered the kitchen.

Miss Peregrine would end up helping them in bandaging his hand, and they would later head up to his room to commence animating more lifeless doll heads and spare parts. The day would pass on, and all would go back to normal.

But something would be different between them from then on.

Call it a heightened tolerance for each other, or a mutual understanding.

But things were definitely interesting in the following weeks.


End file.
